The Thorn Birds
by Hermonthis
Summary: A collection of short stories revolving around the Cyclonian royal family. Spoilers for Episode 38.


A/N: I finally got around to writing something about the Cyclonian royal family. I've had all these snippets and ideas floating about in my brain but lacked the proper inspiration until I watched "Five Days." Who was that woman? Cyclonis's mother? Grandmother? Either way, lightning struck and the fingers started typing.

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**When the Levee Breaks

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She, unlike others, loves the red earth and all it has to offer. As a child she is known to run to the windows and push them open despite her wet nurse's distant reprimands. Huffing and puffing up the stairs, the woman who acts like a second mother to the heiress holds her skirts in one hand and fans her breast with the other. There are too many stairs in this corner of the palace, but they are forbidden from playing in the new sections of the citadel which remain under construction. From stones to steel, the royal family will make Cyclonia shine once more. It is only a matter of time.

The girl laughs at her caretaker, her soft hair blowing about her face as the heat from the outside world blows inwards. Construction inside and outside of her home, the clangs and bangs of workers working day and night to realize the dream of her parents. To her young eyes, she doesn't see the danger. All she knows from the tales of the workmen is this new development is the result her father's ambition and her mother's cunning. Her grandfather's vision.

The workmen in their Talon uniforms don't scare her. The daughter of the throne pushes herself up on the stone windowsill and leans forward. Her belly rests perniciously on the edge as she laughs and waves towards the men below. She cannot see their faces so very well with their goggles and hardhats, but she can see their hands as they adjust their hold on the long ladder resting upon their shoulders and wave back to her.

Everyone waves back to her. Everyone she greets says hello.

The wet nurse lets out a screech of alarm and pulls the child away from the open window. The air is not good for her lungs and the shutters must remain closed. What would happen if she leaned too far and fell out of the window? What if some of the metal those men were working with happened to fly away and aim at her?

The young heir to Cyclonia is a peculiar child, born with a pale body and a sickly cough. She is the first and only child born to her parents, but one of the youngest in her family's generation. There are first cousins and aunts and uncles vying for the throne, and if anything should befall this girl, there is more than one neck slated for the executioner's block. But the nurse has good intentions and loves this child as if she was one of her own.

She is thankful for her lord's foresight, his agenda to push advanced crystal technology beyond what the rest of Atmos already knows. Were it not for Cyclonia's crystal specialists, more than half of the pregnant women on this terra would have gotten sick and miscarried. And were it not for better medical facilities, those babies that survived the crucial first ten days would fall prey to numerous respiratory diseases.

But this child survived. The odds were against her from day one. She may be sickly now, but given time and proper care, her health will improve along with her mind. The heiress is a happy child, with soft, fine hair like her mother's and a smile that reminds everyone of her grandfather's. Dark hair and vibrant, violet eyes, she is the apple of her father's eye.

"Miss!" the older woman cries, gathers her long, homespun skirts in one hand and with the other grabs onto the child's upper arm and steers her away from the tempting window. Shushing her to mind her manners, she ushers the princess out of the room and down the stairs towards the kitchens. After that it is time for her afternoon lessons.

Lark smiles innocently and wins the woman's heart over. She is a big girl and refuses to hold her nanny's hand, but she asks a question as she presses her palm against the wall to steady herself for the journey down.

"What am I studying today?"

The nurse nods and her footsteps stop abruptly as the princess starts playing games and jolts on the steps. The castle is a funny place; it smells in some rooms but not in others. There are many corridors to explore and the palace is never lonely. She loves it here; this is her world, one big playground.

The woman answers. "History."

The child frowns. "Why?"

"Because," her caretaker states in a manner-of-fact tone, "your father wants you to know. Isn't that enough?" One small frown on the princess's face says no. Sighing, a motherly hand rests on the back of the girl's neck as they pass a pair of working Talons. The men nod towards the matron and bow towards the child. Once they pass, the hand comes off the child's clothing and the nurse dusts off her apron in habit.

"History is the history of your people. If you're going to rule Cyclonia one day, you need to know what your ancestors did so you can avoid their mistakes."

Lark ponders this statement for a moment, her developing brain starts to process this information as she raises a painted fingernail to her lips and thinks. Four long heartbeats pass, and she looks up at her nursemaid and smiles. The older woman raises an eyebrow and asks.

"Do you understand?"

"I understand."


End file.
